Titanium
by oneofyourfrenchgirls
Summary: They are all ready to welcome their son and brother home after years of absence, but it isn't the boy that left for battle that comes home. This is a grown man that no one really knows. Slash: Cas/Dean. Soldier!Dean.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural or its characters.

**Warnings**: AU. Slash, het. PTSD!Dean. Substance abuse (alcohol), violence and swearing. Mentions of war and abuse.

**Pairings:** Dean/Cas. Sam/Jess. Mary/John.

**Summary:** They are all ready to welcome their son and brother home after years of absence, but it isn't long before they notice that this isn't the same boy that left for battle. This is a grown man that no one really knows.

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><p><strong>Titanium<strong>

**Written by oneofyourfrenchgirls**

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><p>The night air is cool and calming. The sun, slowly disappearing from the orange and pink sky, is the only proof that daytime consists of nothing but heat and sweat. Right now, Sam Winchester has a hard time remembering the blaring sunrays and the exhaustion from the afternoon hours. He doesn't mind forgetting; doesn't mind not thinking about anything important. Out here, on the small balcony of his new apartment, he feels allowed to drop it all.<p>

Just for a while, he thinks, while Jessica is in the shower.

He thought about joining her for some fun, but he can't really imagine having sex right now. He is still nervous – has been tense all day – and his mind has been smothered by pictures of his brother since last week. Questions have been racing through his skull, back and forth – what will he think of Jess, what will he say about Sam's diploma, what will he think of Sam's apartment? Will he notice how tall Sam is now, will he notice how many hours his little brother put into building muscles?

He can't concentrate on anything but the thought of seeing his older brother again. He wants to show him everything – girlfriend, apartment, diploma and_ everything_. It has reached the point where his boss told him to take the rest of the week off, but Sam doesn't mind. For once, he can't find a valid reason to go to work.

Not when Dean is coming back to Lawrence tomorrow.

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><p>The taste of decaffeinated coffee usually sets her off, but Mary Winchester knows better than to drink regular coffee right before bed. It smells the same – bitter, warm and calming – but just the knowledge that it isn't regular normally makes her cringe.<p>

As it is, Mary barely remembers her middle name.

She glances at the clock and finds that it has barely moved since last time she checked it. Ten minutes past nine, and she curses every single minute that stands between her and her boy. Ever since the Winchester household received a letter from Afghanistan, both she and her husband have been walking on eggshells. One thoughtless word sets both of them off.

Mary spent the first few nights after the letter crying herself to sleep, while John grimaces every single time someone hints about what is going to happen tomorrow. She can't help herself, blinking away tears of joy, but she just feels _so right_.

Even though she spent the whole day manically cleaning and preparing everything for her oldest son's return, she doesn't feel exhausted. She hopes that Dean won't mind the new sofa, in which she is curled up now, and that he will find the new plasma TV as much of a pleasure as John does.

She can picture them there – John, Dean and Sam; her boys – with a beer and easy smiles on their faces. It's a great picture.

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><p>The Winchester Automobile Shop is nothing fancy, nothing special. It's a normal garage, mainly visited by locals. John Winchester can fix up about any car – truck, kombi, sports car – but he lives for the classical ones. The guttural purr of lovely V8's and the wideness of the hood. There is nothing not to love.<p>

In the far left of the garage, separated by a heavy rubber curtain hanging from the high ceiling, sits the perfect car. It might be the love of his life, save from his wife (who is much a like a classical car: strong, stubborn and leaving quite the impression). He loves touching the black lacquer, brushing his knuckles over her trunk and marvel about her polish.

He is sitting inside of her, right now, running his hands over the steering wheel and imagining the low sound of her engine. She runs like a dream – he should know, since he just came back from her second test drive. It is a miracle that she runs yet again, after a rough crash a year ago when he and Mary drove to California to pick up Sam and Jess, but John is known to be stubborn for a reason.

He is close to say that she runs better than before, but he knows that she won't be complete until her destined driver is behind the wheel. She won't be perfect until the one who loves her the most is taking her out on the road.

John closes his eyes and thinks of his son. His little boy, always so eager to try her out. Dean, since the age he could talk, had always expressed his affection of the Impala.

It only made sense that he got the car as a welcome home-present.

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><p>The water is chill and soothing against her sunburned body. She runs her fingers through her long hair, twisting out the last of the shampoo. She watches the soap buds swirling down the drain absent-mindedly. She is jumpy and giddy at the same time. Even the relaxing water flow is enough to calm her down completely.<p>

Tomorrow is the day Jessica Moore meets Dean Winchester for the first time.

For some reason, she is even more nervous about this than meeting Sam's parents. While John still scares her with his gruff voice and stern eyes, she knows that Sam would dismiss his father's opinion of her if the older man found her inappropriate. She knows that Sam would manage to convince Mary to come around, if Mrs Winchester had decided to dislike her when they first met.

Jess is afraid. She is sure that Dean is everything and more that Sam has told her – loyal, compassionate and brave underneath all that cocky bravado and ego – but she is also certain that Dean's view of her is the most important opinion she will ever receive.

She knows, that if Dean finds her unsuitable, Sam will toss her away.

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><p><strong>To Be Continued<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Titanium**

**Written by oneofyourfrenchgirls**

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><p><strong>Part 2<strong>

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><p>At first it seems like just another day. The sun shines strongly through the thin curtains in the bedroom and the alarm clock beeps shrilly next to his ear. With an uncoordinated arm-movement, Sam manages to shut it off before it drives him mad. He shuffles to lie on his back, staring up at the ceiling for a while. It takes him about half a minute to become restless.<p>

"Not yet," Jess groans into her pillow.

He forces away a smile at her complaint, trying not to start laughing out of the blue. His mood is already on top and it feels unbreakable – nothing can ruin his day when today's plan consists of seeing his big brother again. He knows that his girlfriend is anxious about the welcome party, but he can tell that she is excited as well.

They have been planning this for a week now, and Sam knows that his brother is going to appreciate everything they have prepared. Everything from the barbecue to the gift. Sam can barely believe that Dean is finally getting the Chevy Impala, and he knows that John is having a hard time separating with the car. Sam is also fairly sure that is an attempt to get Dean to stay home, to never go back.

"Honey," Jess murmurs as she struggles to sit up. Her eyes are only just open, puffy with sleep, and her long hair is a blonde bird's nest; but she is the cutest sight that Sam has ever seen. "Honey, it's eight in the morning. On a Saturday. Come lie down for a while."

"Nope," he tells her and heads for a morning shower. His fingers are a little shaky as he turns on the hot water and gets out of his boxers. He goes through the morning routine a little slower than usual, delayed by plausible scenarios that Sam wishes to occur throughout the day, playing in his head.

He wants a hug – one of Dean's rough, tight embraces that only happens once a decade. He knows that Dean will love Jess, but he hopes that his brother will tease him. Perhaps Dean will tell him that Jessica is way too pretty; perhaps Dean will tell Jess to run while he holds Sam down, to get out while she can.

An hour later, after the shower and a quick breakfast, Jessica gets up and moves zombie-like to the bathroom. Sam waits in the small living room, fiddling with one of the coffee table books and pretending not to be as eager as he actually is. It appears that his poker face is rather bad, however, when Jessica laughs at him so hard that banana smoothie runs down her chin.

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><p>"Calm down," John grumbles as he sits down in the backyard with a cool beer. His own nerves aren't the best right now, and Mary's nagging isn't making it any better. "Bobby'll be here in half an hour."<p>

"I told you to call him, John." She sighs and puts her hand on her hips, trying to cover up her nervousity with annoyance. "He could have taken the mini-van so that we could fit in one car!"

"Yeah, I don't think Dean cares if we have to take two cars, Mary. If it bothers you so much, tell Jess to stay here." John did call Bobby yesterday, but he isn't going to tell his wife that any time soon. He will be caught dead before admitting that he wants just the Winchesters in one car and Jess and Bobby in the other. He knows it's silly, but he can't help but feel that she is imposing a little on this special day.

"You're impossible." Mary takes a deep breath to calm down, but it hitches in her throat. "That girl is a saint for coming over and helping me with everything. God knows you haven't done anything productive all day."

John snorts, because he doesn't count Mary's frantic cleaning and fussing as productive when it's already clean. He could also point out that he wasn't the one who spent an hour going through the wardrobe for something to wear, but he isn't suicidal. Instead, he just relaxes into the chair and enjoys the sun on his face.

His silence is enough for her to go back inside, perhaps to vacuum Dean's old room once more, and he takes a long sip out of the bottle.

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><p>The smell of bitter coffee and warm pastry reaches Sam's nostrils when they come to a halt outside a crowded Starbuck's. The scent is trapped inside the airport, which is swarming with people in hurry. Their patch of tile is safe haven for them and a few more families waiting to greet their loved ones home.<p>

Sam watches them idly, sees the two taxi drivers holding different signs and waiting for whoever they are designated to drive. There are a about four or five other families, and he smiles at the sight of two young kids jumping up and down eagerly. Sam is close to jumping up and down himself, but refrains – he stands out enough as it is: a head taller than most, broad-shouldered and muscled. He hopes Dean will notice how much Sam has grown.

Jessica leans against him, puts her hand soothingly on his back and smiles knowingly. Sam looks over at his parents, and he can honestly not say who is the most excited. His mother keeps biting and licking her lips, unconsciously removing the rosy lipstick, and her green eyes are wide and searching. His father is no better, drumming his fingers against his thigh in the beat of an imaginary song. John is standing close to Mary, but his shoulders are drawn back in a rare, tense fashion.

Uncle Bobby is standing next to them, but Sam can't tell if he is nervous or excited. The ugly, worn cap on his head hides any expression from his gruff face. Sam is sure, though, that Bobby is feeling the impatience and expectation lingering in the air. It isn't just the Winchester family that reeks of it, but also the families next to them. Sam peeks again and the kids have stopped their silly dancing.

"Sam? _Sam_."

"Huh?"

Jessica points ahead, smile widening, at a crowd of uniformed men.

The earlier swarm of businessmen and nervous fliers seems to part for the small group of men in digi-cam, respectfully clearing the way. Sam notices that his girlfriend is standing on her tiptoes, trying to figure out which one is Sam's brother. John is subtly trying to look around his nearly-jumping wife, and Bobby removes his cap hurriedly.

Even though the assemblage of young men is about the same height, all well-built and short-haired, Sam spots his brother immediately.

He feels his body move before he can stop himself, and he takes ten giant steps before he is in the middle of the group. Everything seems so surreal and unfamiliar, until Sam looks straight into wide, green eyes. Dean smiles and everything is okay.

Someone makes a strange noise, dry and forced, and Sam is pretty sure that it came from him. Another sound, and they wrap their arms around each other.

"Sam," another noise, but this is wet and urgent. Dean's arms are firm and unyielding around his ribcage, just the way he imagined this morning, and Sam tightens his grip. His hands grabs desperately at the camouflaged fabric, aware that he is close to ripping it apart with his bare fingers. "_Sam_."

"Dean," Sam whispers. He promised himself not to cry, all those years ago, when his brother left. He doesn't care about the hot tears that run down his cheeks now. He doesn't care about the snot threatening to escape his nose. All he cares about is his brother, in his arms, holding him close.

In the background, they can hear the joy of mothers as they hug their returned sons, but Mary waits until Sam has taken a step back. He wishes that he could get another embrace, but he isn't that selfish.

Instead, he smiles through his tears when Mary clings to her oldest son. Dean is only an inch or so taller when she is in her high heels, but he picks her up anyway and swirls her around like the action heroes in Mary's favourite movies.

Sam wipes the tears away with the back of his hand, remembering the time when he tried to teach himself to cry in the same way that Mary and Dean did. A few pearly tears, swollen eyes and lips. Sam is all snot and wailing and blushing, but he can't bring himself to be embarrassed right now. He knows that Jess is watching him, with that knowing smile of hers, but he doesn't mind. The happiness he feels is impossible to be ashamed of.

"Son," John rasps when Mary is put down.

Dean inhales a gulp of air before John embraces him in a bone-crushing hug. It's so different from the one Sam shared with his brother only moments ago – his father buries his nose in Dean's short hair and closes his damp eyes shut tightly. He puts one big hand on the back of his son's head to push Dean's face into the safety of his neck. Dean clings desperately to John's denim jacket, allowing himself to slip into the role of a distressed son for once.

"M' boy." John lets go of Dean hesitatingly, his hand resting on Dean's back even when it's Bobby's turn to hug.

Dean lets out a short laugh once Bobby is done patting him on his shoulder. He takes a step back, his stance rigid and unfamiliar, and he wipes his tears away with the back of his hand. He looks handsome as ever, even with flushing cheeks and a red nose. Different; but Sam can't decide if it's good or bad just yet.

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><p>Back at the Winchester household, it seems that no amount of preparations or cleaning could have made them ready for this. Mary can't stop touching her boy – a soft caress over his strong cheekbone, a strong hold on his offered arm, adjusting the collar of his uniform. He looks older, mischief still written over his face, but there is something new about Dean that makes her wonder where he has really been.<p>

Jessica helps her set the table in the backyard while Bobby and John argue about the proper techniques to barbecue. Mary is eager to have them all by the table, filling their stomachs and enjoying stories about what has happened during the last three years. Setting the table goes slowly, though, because every time she is heading outside with plates or utensils, she passes her two boys in the living room.

"When did you get so _big_?" Dean wonders and reaches out to touch his little brother's bicep.

Mary thinks that it might just be an excuse to feel, to make sure that this is really happening. She is having the same experience herself, questioning her sanity once in a while to make sure that it is all real. It would crush her to find out that it is all imagination.

"Figured I'd preserve the time you were gone to build some muscle. So I'd be able to kick your ass when you came back, I mean." Sam's smile is wide enough to hurt, eyes twinkling teasingly as he looks down on Dean.

"Tch. You could try," Dean says, but the tone of his voice tells Sam not to.

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><p>Jess is jittery when dinner rolls around, but no one seems to notice. In fact, she barely notices it herself. Instead, she busies herself with loading her plate full of potato salad and steak, listening on the conversation going on. It's interesting to watch Sam interact with his big brother – the awe in his eyes, the amazement in his voice and adoration in every single movement.<p>

She is still processing Dean, thinking over the first impression and everything that might hint towards his opinion of her. So far, so good, she thinks. He is even kind enough to not stare at her sunburned shoulders, even though she knows that she should have chosen another outfit to cover it up.

He didn't look like she imagined, though, and she wonders why. She has seen pictures of Dean and Sam – a very few selected ones. In them, he was either a freckled teen with a cocky grin or a little kid missing his front teeth. This Dean is, dare she say it,_ beautiful_.

His tan brings out a splatter of freckles on his nose and his strict haircut makes his cheekbones and jaw visible in the most gracious way. He is different from Sam's rugged, strong kind of handsome. She can imagine Dean being teased for his prettiness by other boys, but she knows for sure that a bat of those eyelashes and a pout of those lips would make anyone interested.

The cocky grin is still there, Jess finds out whenever Sam says something worth teasing. Otherwise, there is no trace of the proud swagger to his steps or the arrogance that Sam described. Instead, this Dean carries himself with carefully calculated movements and a stern way of walking.

Even changed out of his uniform, now wearing jeans and a tight tee, he still manages to give off an air of authority that Jess hasn't witnessed in anyone else but in John Winchester himself.

Nevertheless, she can see why they love him, even if this is not the man she saw before her eyes when portrayed.

"Aren't you hungry?" Mary asks suddenly. To Jessica's relief, it isn't meant for her.

"Uh," Dean says, licking his lips in the same way Jess has seen Mary do. "Yeah, nah, I mean–"

"I bet you flirted with the stewardess into giving you an extra lunch at the plane," Sam snorts. Dean looks grateful for a second, and then picks up his fork to shuffle his food around the plate. The potato salad mixes with the green salad, but the meat is left untouched.

They all pretend not to notice.

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><p><strong>To Be Continued<strong>

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><p><strong>AN:** These two first parts were rather short, because I don't want to go round and round saying the same things (and I also want to keep everything alive, rather than writing a ten-paged description of Dean's pretty eyes). Hopefully, it'll also make it easier for me to update more often. _Please comment to help me improve!_


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